


Ki (Piano)

by 4Lorn



Series: Sut en Jus (Dust and Blood) [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Because These Two Need It, Commander Lexa, F/F, Fluff, Musical Instruments, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Piano, Post-Mount Weather, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4Lorn/pseuds/4Lorn
Summary: "It’s been so long since Clarke has heard an instrument that is not a drum that it takes her a moment to pinpoint what it is exactly that she’s hearing. She dimly recalls the few beautiful sounds on the Ark, beneath the constant hum of machinery and the creaking of metal, and it comes to her. A piano."In which Lexa plays piano.





	Ki (Piano)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a little shorter but a lot sweeter. It's nice to have once in a while. Also, this is my first piece of the New Year, so as stated before, it may be a bit different from the previous ones.
> 
> Some of my pieces are inspired by music, both instrumental and lyrical. When they are, I’ll be placing the inspiration song here.
> 
> Inspiration: Fairy Tail Piano Theme  
> (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0l-4b8Pcb2Q)

_Ki_

(Piano)

 

It isn’t a nightmare or the snap of a twig that wakes Clarke. It’s something else, something strange.

Her eyes open. Late afternoon light is filtering in through the burlap curtains. She’s curled up on a chair. Across from her is a dark couch. It is warm and Clarke can smell something soft. Candles. Lexa’s room seems to be the only place she can wake up without her heart pounding and her fingers scrambling for a weapon. Ironic, in a way.

The sound that woke her is coming from the right, slightly behind her. It’s been so long since Clarke has heard an instrument that is not a drum that it takes her a moment to pinpoint what it is exactly that she’s hearing. She dimly recalls the few beautiful sounds on the Ark, beneath the constant hum of machinery and the creaking of metal, and it comes to her. A piano.

Very few people on the Ark knew how to play instruments. It was a form of art, something that was carried along for the culture of it. It held little importance when it came to surviving in space. Those who did know how to play had music sheets, and followed them to the tee. Their movements and songs were mechanical, exact to the point of being utterly perfect.

This is different. It is not mechanical, not exact. It goes by no single tempo, nor is it disordered or rushed. Rather, it seems to flow freely, a soft, slow up and down that echoes the aching sadness and guilt in Clarke’s heart. It seems to reverberate across the room and out the window, yet stays confined to the inhabitants of this room alone. It is perfect in its imperfections, and for a long moment, all Clarke can do is sit curled up in her chair and listen. Then, slowly, as to not disturb the beauty of this moment, she turns to look.

Lexa. She is sitting in front of an upright piano that Clarke had assumed was for decoration. Her back and shoulders are straight, but her neck is bent, and her arms move with the same precise fluidity as they do when she fights. Only now, that fluidity has intentions of gentleness rather than strength. Her fingers dance softly, perfectly across the keys, despite the fact that her eyes are closed. Her expression holds a sad wistfulness, a feeling which is clearly conveyed into the music.

Clarke can’t bear to disturb the moment, so she waits until the end of the song before she gets up. As the last, light notes fade into silence, Clarke makes her way around the furniture towards Lexa. The young woman slides her hands off the keys before taking a deep breath and opening her eyes. She looks up at Clarke as she stops beside her.

“Good afternoon, Clarke,” she greets her. “I trust you rested well.”

Clarke doesn’t answer that. She never rests well anymore. “I didn’t know you knew how to play piano,” she says instead, motioning to the instrument.

The corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a small smile. “You mean the _ki_.” She glances at the piano and runs her hand over the smooth wood. “Yes, I do. I have known how to play for some time now.”

“Did you teach yourself?” It wouldn’t surprise Clarke.

Lexa’s smile fades. “The song is my own, but I did not teach myself. Costia did.”

“Oh.” Clarke fumbles for something to say. “It’s beautiful.”

Lexa seems to startle a little at that. She averts her eyes and clears her throat. “Thank you.” A pause. “Do you play an instrument, Clarke?”

Clarke shakes her head. It was seen as unimportant on the Ark, though music itself was considered to be a vital piece of human culture. Yes, a few people _did_ know how to play, but Clarke was not one of them. Her teachings were medical with the occasional mechanical rather than musical.

“Would you like to learn?”

That makes Clarke pause. It's a strange question to ask. Did she want to learn? Would it do her any good to learn? Would it do her any good _not_ to learn? Clarke recalls the piano at Mount Weather. There were very specific ways to make yourself useful. Survival didn’t just mean learning how to hunt and kill. And... what harm would it do?

“Okay.” Clarke says.

Lexa’s face brightens a little. But she seems to collect herself and nods. She scoots over on the piano bench and motions for Clarke to take a seat. A little nervously, Clarke lowers herself onto the bench next to Lexa, who places her hands onto the keys.

“Learning to play takes time and practice, just like fighting,” she explains. “Music can be broken down into smaller parts, called scales. To put it very simply, each scale is made of a, b, c, d, e, f, and g. Each of these letters represents a certain key on the piano.” She demonstrates each letter with a white key, ascending in pitch. “You also have sharps, which serve as a higher-pitched version of the previous letter, as such…” She repeats the same process with sharps and black keys. “As you can see, every song is made of these individual letters and keys...”

Lexa continues explaining, and for a time, Clarke actually follows. She understands the content, but it’s hard to concentrate with the warmth of Lexa’s body next to her. It’s hard to concentrate with Lexa’s voice by her ear. It’s hard to concentrate with Lexa’s fingers dancing their way across the keys of the piano, and Clarke imagines how the softness of the tone arose from the softness of her skin. A softness Clarke knows. A softness she had felt when –

“Okay,” Clarke suddenly says. She smiles tiredly at Lexa. “I think I’ve had enough for the day.”

Lexa seems startled. She looks towards the window, where they can both see the sun just beginning to set on the horizon. After a moment, she stands and stretches. “I apologize,” she says to Clarke. “It seems I lost track of time. I hadn’t realized it was quite this late.”

Clarke has to work hard not to stare at her stomach when she stretches. She turns to gather her things from the chair and looks over at Lexa. “I should go. I haven’t eaten today.”

Lexa’s expression falls a little, but she quickly covers it. “Of course. You need your strength.”

Clarke moves toward the door. Just before she leaves, she turns back. “Lexa?”

Lexa looks up at her. “Yes, Clarke?”

“Thank you. For teaching me.”

“Of course, Clarke. Anything for-” She stops and clear her throat. “Is there anything else you need?”

Clarke smiles to herself a little. She turns to leave but again turns back. “You said the Commander’s meals were supposed to be really good.”

“They are.” Lexa cocks her head. “Why?”

“Are you willing to share?”

**Author's Note:**

> ki - piano


End file.
